Of Whispers and Shadows
by Maxxe Venier
Summary: AU. Anders is the paramour of Sebastian, the Prince of Starkhaven. Fenris has recently been hired as a member of Sebastian's royal guard. Despite the danger if they are discovered, Anders and Fenris find themselves falling helplessly and hopelessly in love. Their relationship becomes confined to whispers and stolen kisses in the shadows of Starkhaven castle. Written for the k!meme.
1. Chapter 1

Anders looked out the window at the city below and tried to ignore what was happening behind him. He watched a small group of birds flutter by to perch on the edge of a building. He felt an unnerving longing to be one of those birds, to be able to spread his wings and fly away from this tower. He closed his eyes and could almost feel the wind beneath his body, the warmth of the sun on his skin, the smell of fresh air and freedom.

The hand on the back of his neck tightened, and all at once, he was back in his own skin and uncomfortably aware of himself.A choked groan reached his ears, along with the sticky slap of sweaty skin against skin. The air around him was hot and thick, and the smell of sex was almost suffocating. The fingers on his hip tightened painfully, and Anders felt the body behind him begin to tremble.

He'd long ago become familiar with the signs, and he knew his lover was nearing his end. Another few moments, and the man behind him shuddered, collapsing against Anders with his release.

And then the man was pulling out of him, leaving an emptiness and an ache and a mess. Anders rolled over onto his back while the man dressed himself, and he thought about flying away again. The man said something about seeing him at dinner later, and Anders nodded and smiled and made some coy reply he expected the man would like.

He was right, and his lover laughed before wishing him farewell until the evening, and when the door to Anders' suite closed tight behind him, Anders let out a heavy sigh of relief.

He'd used to cherish the man's morning visits, and his occasional night visits. He used to believe he had feelings for the man, and that those feelings were reciprocated. He used to believe that he was fortunate, blessed even, to have found himself in his situation, paramour to the Prince of Starkhaven himself. But now the thought only left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was a first he accepted the excuses, that it was for his own protection, and he believed he had little to complain lived in luxury, grew fat on rich foods and slept on a plush bed bigger than the clinic he'd once called home, with more pillows than he could count. He was given expensive gifts of fine clothing and jewelry, and anything else his heard desired, except his freedom.

A gilded cage was a cage just the same, and a jeweled collar still choked the air from shackled lungs.

He cursed himself under his breath, and sat up in his bed. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous, and he'd been having too many of them lately.

Anders lay for a while longer, staring at the high ceiling of his bedroom, and wondering what it would feel like to float through it. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being stuck in this tower without going mad. Sometimes he felt like he'd already gone mad. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been mad before he'd been locked up.

Finally, Anders could take it no more, and picked himself off the bed. He was sticky with sweat, and wet with royal seed. He needed a bath. He pulled on a robe and called for someone to draw him one. In another moment, he heard servants enter the bathing chamber connected to his bedroom and begin preparing a bath for him. Anders paced until a servant told him it was ready.

He thanked her politely, and when the door was closed behind her, he dropped his robe and sank happily into the hot water. The warmth soaked through his skin all the way to his bones, and eased sore muscles. Anders rolled his shoulders and settled deeper into the water. He felt almost at peace.

And then suddenly the water was cold and he had a painful crick in his neck, and his fingers were all wrinkly. Anders sat up and rubbed his neck, letting a bit of healing magic sink into the ache and relieve it. He must have dozed off, he thought idly. Wouldn't be the first time.

He resisted the urge to reheat the water himself, and stood to reach for a nearby towel. He stepped out of the bathtub and dried himself lazily, wondering how long he'd slept. He padded into his bedroom to dress, and glanced out his window to find the sun was visible. That meant it was after noon, at least.

Anders wandered over to his desk and sat himself down. He cracked his knuckles, dipped his favorite quill in ink, and set to writing. This had become his favorite way to pass the time lately, since his attempts to practice his magic had almost been discovered, and he wasn't about to risk angering Sebastian enough to get sent back to the templars.

At first, he'd written silly bits of verse to amuse himself, but then the verses began to get too serious, too personal, and he had to burn a few papers that said things he didn't want anyone else knowing he felt, and he'd stopped writing for a while. But the freedom he felt from expressing himself on paper wouldn't leave his mind, and he'd come up with the brilliant idea of developing his own language.

He'd based it on ancient Arcanum, which he'd studied while he was in the Circle, but it was purely his own, and he was confident no others could decipher it. He'd begun to pour his thoughts and soul out onto paper, with no worries about someone coming into his room and reading something that would get him into trouble.

He now took comfort in the sound of pen scratching against paper, the smell of wet ink, and the elation he felt at truly expressing himself, even if it was merely to the pages on his desk. He sat hunched over his desk and scrawled for hours, immersed in the words he crafted for himself.

A knock on his bedroom door disturbed his work, and he glanced up to see the sun was painting the sky red and purple as it neared the horizon. Another knock drew him from his desk, and he lazily strolled to his door and pulled it open.

"Master Anders," a man said the moment he opened the door. It was one of Sebastian's messengers, and for the life of him, Anders couldn't recall this one's name. "The Prince requests that you dine with him this evening. Someone will be up to collect you shortly."

And then the man was gone, leaving Anders blinking in surprise. It wasn't often that Sebastian requested his presence elsewhere in the keep. Anders was usually confined to the upper floors of this tower, which included a dining room, where the prince joined him for meals if it suited his fancy. If he was requesting Anders downstairs, it must be a special occasion.

Anders rifled through his large collection of dress robes and pulled out an especially nice one. It was a lovely shade of dark red laced with gold that he thought brought out the warm tones of his eyes quite well, and he knew the prince agreed. He combed his hair back neater than usual, then sat and twiddled his thumbs until a guard came calling.

He followed his escort downstairs, and mused to himself that it was rather sad how excited he was to dine in a different part of the keep for a change. He trailed the guard into the dining hall to find Sebastian already seated at the head of the table with food before him. A place was set beside the prince, but the rest of the table was empty.

"Anders," Sebastian greeted happily, and rose from the table to spread his arms in welcome. Anders smiled and strode towards his lover. "I see you're wearing my favorite robes," Sebastian noted as Anders neared him.

"Just for you, love," Anders replied with a beamed, a huge smile breaking across his handsome face, and Anders was struck by a painful longing to feel the things the prince once incited in him, to love this man the way he used to.

"Please, sit," Sebastian told him, blissfully unaware of Anders' thoughts.

Anders bowed his head respectfully, and took his seat beside the prince. "You don't ask me to dine down here often. May I ask the occasion?" Anders inquired as politely as he could.

"No occasion. I have a frightful amount of work to do, and did not wish to make the trip to your tower, but I desired your company," Sebastian explained with a smile.

Not exactly the explanation Anders had been expecting, but he wasn't about to complain. Any excuse to leave that blighted tower was fine by him. As Sebastian began regaling him with tales about all the dreadful paperwork and business he'd had to deal with recently, Anders reached for the plates of food in front of him, but his eyes caught something that gave him pause.

The most beautiful man he'd ever seen was standing across the room, and Anders had to fight to find his breath again. The man's shaggy white hair hid half of his face, but Anders could tell the man was elven. The tips of his ears protruded from his hair, and his body was long and slim like most of his kind. His skin was tanned and toned, and painted with beautiful lines that seemed to sing to Anders from across the room.

"Ah, you've noticed Fenris." Sebastian's voice drew Anders from his thoughts, and he turned to face his prince, a little ashamed to have been caught staring at another man. "Impressive, isn't he?" Sebastian asked, and Anders was sure he blushed.

"Um, I suppose," he began, but Sebastian cut him off.

"He's the newest member of the royal guard. From Tevinter," he remarked casually. "He's quite skilled with a blade, and those markings of his give him the most remarkable skills in battle. It's an interesting story how he came to be employed here, actually."

"Oh?" Anders inquired, but he couldn't bring himself to listen to the answer. His attention was fully focused on the elf across the hall, who was casually leaning against a wall, and staring off into the corner as though something dreadfully fascinating were occurring there.

As if the elf could feel Anders' eyes on him, he turned his head slowly, almost mechanically, to meet the mage's gaze. Anders felt a fire stirring in his belly under the elf's stare, and he had to force himself to look away. He tried to focus on conversation with Sebastian, on his food, on his drink, on anything but the elf across from him. But every time he chanced a glance in the elf's direction, he found the man was still staring at him.

Anders found the elf's stare both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and stared pointedly at Sebastian. He saw the prince's lips moving, but couldn't bring himself to understand the words. Sebastian didn't seem to notice Anders' distraction, and prattled on about what Anders assumed was important princely business.

And then all too soon and not soon enough, Sebastian decided the meal was over. The prince dropped his napkin on the table dramatically and apologized for ending dinner so early, and followed up by explaining again how much work he had.

"But, I promise I will pay you a visit as soon as I have time tomorrow," Sebastian told him, beaming.

Anders smiled back as convincingly as he could. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Sebastian, still smiling, waved his hand to signal to his guards. "Would someone be so kind as to escort Anders back to his suite?"

Anders felt his stomach do a somersault when the handsome elf practically vaulted off the wall to volunteer.

"Ah, Fenris, thank you," the prince said happily. Fenris nodded in acknowledgment, but didn't take his eyes from Anders.

As the prince wished him good night and took his leave, Anders tried no to appear as nervous as he tugged at the collar of his robes, which was suddenly tight and restricting, and became aware that he had started sweating.

Fenris nodded his head and held an arm towards the door through which Anders had come. It was an invitation for Anders to lead the way, and he happily obliged, grateful to be able to break eye contact. Fenris followed closely behind Anders as he guided them through the familiar paths back to his suites, but didn't say a word. Halfway to his tower, the silence between them was beginning to grow unbearable. He had to say something, Anders decided, and struggled to find his words.

"So," he started hesitantly, "you're new here." He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. What had happened to his prided quick wit and charms?

"I am," the elf replied coolly, and Anders could have sworn he saw a smirk briefly play across the man's lips.

And then the silence was back and even worse than before. Anders had to fight to keep from burying his head in his hands in embarrassment. What had this elf done to him? He normally had no qualms chatting up any of the guard or servants, and certainly had never experienced a silence this awkward in his he was not about to make a bigger fool of himself, and solemnly decided to keep his mouth shut for the rest of this escort, no matter how uncomfortable the silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the top of the final staircase, and were strolling down the corridor leading to Anders' bed chambers. Anders paused in front of his bedroom door to glance at Fenris, and blushed when he found the elf staring back.

"Um, thanks," Anders stuttered awkwardly.

The elf merely bowed his head respectfully and smiled, a crooked grin that made him look like he was in on some joke that Anders wasn't, and then he turned and strolled back down the corridor and disappeared down the stairs.

Anders stood staring for a few long moments after Fenris had vanished from sight, trying to figure out what had just happened, before he sighed and let himself into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian did not come to him the following morning. Anders was neither surprised nor disappointed. He'd stayed in bed for quite a while after the sun had risen, staring at the ceiling, waiting, but the prince had never arrived.

Eventually, his restlessness overcame his lethargy, and he dragged himself from bed. He went about his morning routine in a daze of boredom, and wondered not for the first time if he would have been better off without Sebastian's interference those many months ago. Anders hated how he'd been sucked into this life of luxury and complacency, pampered and spoiled until he grew fat and lazy, to the point where the only thing he loathed more than his boredom was his apathy. He sat around and griped about his misery day in and day out, and did not a thing to change his circumstances.

He glanced down at himself and was disgusted with the state he'd let himself decay into. The thin layer of pudge over his abdomen was slowly growing larger. The muscles in his arms had deteriorated to flab. He hadn't exactly been healthy before; running a free clinic in Darktown didn't pay enough to eat well. He'd been malnourished, but he'd at least been lean and toned. A staff is heavy, and a mage needs muscle to wield one properly.

With the state he was in now, Anders seriously doubted he'd be very intimidating in battle. He hadn't practiced his magic in longer than he cared to admit, and he he was many months out of practice in wielding a staff.

Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't sit around and be pampered and bored forever. This wasn't who he was.

Anders had no idea how long Sebastian planned to keep him as a paramour, but he did know that getting out of this arrangement before Sebastian wanted to let him go would be difficult. He also knew he couldn't just get up and leave in this state. He wouldn't trust himself in battle the way he was now, and he certainly wasn't going to risk going back into templar custody.

An idea unfurled in his mind, and he smiled at the thought. It was perfect. There was a sun room on this floor, down the hall. It wasn't connected to the main hallway like the rest of the rooms. The only way to get in was through the small library, which would give him a perfect excuse. Sebastian knew he loved to read and write. Guards never followed him into the rooms, and if Sebastian paid him a surprise visit, he could easily pretend to be reading instead of practicing his magic, which the prince had expressly forbidden.

Yes, this was perfect, Anders assured himself as he stepped through the door of his room and straight into the largest shock of his recent days. He was standing face-to-face with the elven guard from the previous night.

At first he was too surprised to react, until the elf made some remark about the unflattering look on Anders' face, and he realized his jaw had fallen open. He quickly closed it, and asked in a bit of a huff, "Are they in the habit of assigning the newest recruits to guard me?"

"I may have ensured I was given this post," came the smug reply.

Anders crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "And why exactly would you do that?"

The elf merely smirked.

Well, Anders thought to himself. Wasn't this interesting?

It had been so long since Anders had spoken to, much less flirted, with someone new, he was having trouble grasping for things to say, something that never would have happened to the old Anders. Finally, painfully aware of his awkwardness under the elf's stare, he asked, "So how did you come to be employed by the Prince of Starkhaven?"

"I could ask you the same," Fenris replied without missing a beat. Anders arched a brow. Employed wasn't the word he would have used for his situation, but he supposed it fit well enough.

"It's rather a long story," he said and waved his hand dismissively.

Fenris leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms. "I've got time."

"Is this going to be a you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine arrangement, or are you just trying to avoid answering my question?"

"It's no secret how I came here," Fenris replied smoothly. "But I'd be glad to entertain you with my tale, after you regale me."

Anders wanted to refuse, but the way Fenris was staring at him made him feel like he was trapped under the other man's gaze. The elf was in control here, and Anders could tell the warrior wasn't about to let him just walk away. He sighed, and wondered where to start.

"Sebastian," Anders began, then paused, the next words heavy on his lips. "Sebastian saved me. I owed him my life. When he asked me to accompany him to Starkhaven, how could I refuse?"

He stopped there, but Fenris was giving him a look that was saying he'd better continue this story. Anders took a deep breath, and found that he couldn't look at the man in front of him as he told the rest.

"I was working in Kirkwall, running a clinic to help refugees," Anders began explaining awkwardly. "It brought me some unwanted attention. I got into some trouble, and thought I was done for, but then Sebastian was there, and he pulled some strings, and I was free.

"Then he asked me to stay with him for a while. A handsome prince, coming to your rescue and sweeping you off your feet into a life of luxury. Every poor child's dream, eh?" he asked with a chuckle, the question mostly aimed at himself. "At first, I couldn't believe my luck. I was in awe, and Sebastian was... kind, attentive. He showered me with gifts and affection. I thought I..." Anders trailed off, unable to finish his thought, but the way Fenris was staring made him think the elf understood what he'd been about to say.

He sighed and scratched at the back of his head awkwardly, but Fenris made no reply. So Anders continued. "It didn't stay like that for long. Now I barely see him, and I spend all my time in this blighted building alone.

"Sometimes I hate this place, and I hate Sebastian for bringing me here. But when I think about the alternative, well," he shrugged and gave a weak smile. "I suppose anything's better than being tranquil."

The guard visibly recoiled. "You're a mage?" he asked, incredulous.

Anders straightened his back and maintained eye contact. "I am," he replied coolly.

The elf's face crinkled in disgust, and Anders scoffed. Of course the deliriously attractive elf hated mages. Wasn't that just his luck?

"I didn't know you were a mage," Fenris said, repulsed expression still crinkling his features.

"I take it you aren't fond of mages?" Anders asked, mild bitterness seeping into his tone.

"To say I am not fond is a gross understatement," Fenris replied scathingly. "Magic is a danger, a curse. Your kind -"

Anders waved a hand dismissively. "Spare me, I've heard it all before."

Now Fenris's expression twisted into something more akin to anger than disgust. Anders had planned to leave after that, to continue on his way to the library and begin his first day of training. But the way the elf was fuming, he couldn't resist tossing in another jibe.

"I bet you're regretting _ensuring_ this post now, aren't you?" he taunted, and continued down the hall. He felt the fire of Fenris's gaze on his back, and heard the elf grumbling something under his breath, but paid him no mind. He had better things to do than worry about what a handsome mage-hating guard thought of him. Besides, once he'd freed himself from this life he'd let himself fall into, there'd be plenty of other handsome men to seduce.

Despite what he told himself, Anders was relieved when he finally reached the end of the hall and ducked into the library, out of the elf's gaze. When he closed the door behind him, it felt like he had taken the first step towards freedom, which he supposed he had.

The library wasn't huge; Sebastian had a much larger personal one downstairs, at least four times the size of this room. But it was big enough, and the walls were lined with books and scrolls. Anders snagged a few from the nearest shelves, and strode purposefully to the opposite side of the room, towards the decorative doors that led to the sun room.

The room wasn't nearly as large as some of the others in the castle, but it was by no means small, a fact exaggerated by its especially high ceiling. The left and far sides of the room were lined with enormous windows, which stretched from just below Anders' chest to the ceiling. He walked purposefully to the nearest window and flipped the latch to swing it open. A cool breeze drifted through the room, and Anders thought to himself that this was nearly as good as being outside.

With reluctance, he pulled himself away from the window and towards the back. Magic, forbidden as it was in the castle, was best practiced out of sight, where no one could accidentally spot him.

He settled his feet apart and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to focus his long out of use mana. Anders summoned a small fireball in his hand, and focused on holding it completely still and maintaining its size. It took him a bit more effort than he would have liked in the beginning, but after enough practice, he could bend the flames as easily as he could his fingers.

He tossed the fireball into the air, and reached out his other hand to catch it, grinning when he caught it easily. He tossed it again, and again, and soon he'd summoned multiple fireballs, and made himself a game of catching them and tossing them and keeping track of them all.

The magic he felt, always present, rose and fell and swirled inside him as he manipulated the fire, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so _alive_. Alive and in control.

Unfortunately, his mana reserves had become rather dismal after months of disuse, and he could feel himself quickly running out out of energy. He didn't want to drain himself, so he reluctantly extinguished his fires.

A quick glance out the windows told him it was still early in the day, and there was no way he was returning to his room already, just to sit and twiddle his thumbs until nightfall. Well, he finally decided, there was no point in training magic without training the body as well. He still remembered some of the exercises he did during his time in the Circle, and most of those could be done without any training equipment.

Another moment later, and he'd pulled his tunic over his head and was lying flat on the ground, poised to discover just how many push ups he could still do.

Out in the hall, Fenris was leaning against a wall, brooding, wondering why in the Void that blighted mae had decided to spend his entire day cooped up behind the closed doors of the library, and why in Andraste's name he had to be a _mage_? That fact, Fenris told himself, was exactly why he shouldn't be spending all of his time wondering what Anders was doing in that bloody library.

He really was beginning to regret manipulating the duty rosters to get this post. What had he been _thinking_? The man was his employer's paramour, and a mage on top of that. No matter how attractive he was, it wasn't worth the trouble. Fenris must have been mad to even consider the possibility.

He had made up his mind to go right back to the rosters after this shift and change everything back, and forget this fool plan of his. Then Anders finally emerged from the door at the end of the hall, and Fenris thought his heart would beat out of his chest at the sight.

The mage had removed his tunic, and his skin was slick with sweat. His hair had come loose from its tie to frame his face. It was thick and shaggy, and clung to his skin from the sweat. His trousers were tied loosely around his hips in a way that made Fenris' breath catch in his throat, and the elf marveled that his pants could stay up at all.

Fenris tried his damnedest to keep from looking like he was gawking, but he couldn't help but feel he was failing miserably.

For Anders' part, he had completely forgotten about the handsome mage-hating elf in his rush of post-training elation. The burning ache in his muscles and the way his magic had been enlivened within him had drowned out all other thoughts. All he could focus on was the way his body ached, and the excitement he felt at doing this all over again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.

And then he'd emerged from the library and spotted the elf at the other end of the hall, looking like he was trying so hard not to stare.

Anders had to stifle a grin. He put on his best mask and strode down the hall with a purpose, focusing his eyes on the door to his suite and deliberately not looking at the elf. From what he could see out of the corners of his vision, Fenris was watching him rather intently. And if Anders wasn't mistaken, the way the elf's eyes wandered up and down his body meant he was definitely still interested.

Anders tipped his head in the elf's direction as he passed by on the way to his door, his expression blank and unreadable. The elf blinked gave him another look of disgust before turning away, and Anders allowed himself to grin. His dull life of luxury had suddenly gotten much more interesting.


End file.
